Accidents Will Happen
by lwbush
Summary: Something happens that changes Xander's relationship with all the Scoobies, but especially Buffy.


# Accidents Will Happen

By Lori Bush

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy and the WB own all these characters, and they seem rather bent on keeping them, so who am I to interfere? I have nothing worth suing me for, unless you have a burning desire to take on more debt.

Rating: R – strong sexual situations and some coarse language 

Pairing: X/A, X/B, W/T

Spoilers: Welcome To The Hellmouth/Harvest, Teacher's Pet, Inca Mummy Girl, Lover's Walk, Anne, Hush, When She Was Bad, Beer Bad, general fifth season

Summary: Something happens that dramatically changes Xander's relationship with all the Scoobies, but especially Buffy. High angst level here.

I couldn't have done this without Shawn (Ozymandayus) and Danii, who did the read and comment thing for me. Especially Shawn, because half the story exists because he thought it was too short. And I have to say, I think the best half would be missing if it weren't for him.

And, and thanks to Elvis Costello, because his title was so much better than the one I planned to use originally.

Technically un-beta'd.

** **

**~**~**

I kinda thought, what with living on the Hellmouth and all, I'd be able to handle the real thing – Hell – without much trouble. But I'm there, now, and it way out-sucks anything else life has ever thrown at me.

I'm not dead – I wish I were. If I could just curl up and die, this would all be over, and it wouldn't hurt anymore. Hard to imagine, after all the physical and emotional pain I've lived through, that anything could be worse. I staked the demon living inside the body of one of my best friends, and it really felt like *I* was killing Jesse, even though he was already dead. I almost became an after-sex snack for a substitute teacher who was really a giant bug. The first girl who ever seemed to actually care about me, in a guy-girl kind of way, ended up being an ancient mummy who sucked people's live-forces out of them. I returned Willow's feelings for me just in time to screw up both her current relationship and mine, nearly seeing Cordelia die in the process. All of that was just warm-up for this.

Not only that, but I reached this state by getting something I always wanted. I guess it's true what they say, about being careful what you wish for. I certainly never thought my desires for Buffy Summers would end up like this. If anyone, as little as a year ago, had told me that I'd sleep with Buffy and end up hating myself and miserable because of it, I'd have laughed them out of town. Ha! Sure, it happened to Buffy and Angel, but that's Buffy – weird things always happen to her. Which this is – a weird thing happening to her, too.

She's expecting my baby. A baby I'll probably never have the chance to father properly. Maybe it's for the best, considering the example I've had to learn from. Still, even if I was the shit everyone seems to think I was, I think I deserve to spend some time with my own child. But I probably won't get to.

It's hard to even remember how benignly this all started. We were out on patrol – something we did all the time…

~**~

"So, Buffy, we got any particular graves we need to hit tonight?" Xander asked.

"Nope – just the standard 'cruise the crypts and then hit the Bronze' kinda night," the Slayer grinned at her friend. It was good to see Buffy smiling again. For a long time after the departure of Riley Finn, she had been down. But Buffy had bounced back, and everyone was happier as a result.

"Well, I told Anya not to expect me, but she won't be disappointed if I show, I'd bet," the young man answered, not without some pride.

"You two are still burning up the bedsheets, huh? I'm glad you're happy, Xand."

"Well, I have to admit, it's weird and challenging on the best days, but I finally have a real relationship. No broom closets, no having my partner change into something spooky. Anya and I just – well, we just *are*. I'm not used to that."

"I could get used to that," the blonde said, wistfully.

The emerging demon cut off any further discussion. The thing was huge – close to seven feet tall – an ugly as sin. *Why is there no such thing as an attractive demon?* Xander wondered, just before Buffy pulled her sword.

"Something told me to bring this tonight," she taunted the creature. "You look like you could use a little trim off the top." Xander moved behind her, his stake looking pretty pitiful in contrast to the enormous monstrosity. But he'd decided long before this point that there would be no more running and screaming for Xander Harris, no sir. No dying, either, if he had his preferences, but decidedly no running.

The fight was nearly anticlimactic. The thing was obviously used to it's size and butt-ugliness doing most of the work for it, and when it came down to a fight against someone who knew their stuff, it was ill prepared. It made a few futile swipes at the two humans, but Buffy and her sword beheaded it with such ease, Xander wondered if she could have used safety scissors and gotten the same result. Further thought was pushed aside when both the Slayer and Slayerette were drenched with a shower of demon blood.

"Ewww! Gross!" Buffy screamed. 

Xander wiped purple blood out of his eyes. "Yeah – I prefer the Jacuzzi, personally."

"I.""Hate." "Demons!" Each declaration was punctuated by a thrust of the bloody sword into the ground.

"Before you ventilate something I've become attached to, Buff, could you put that thing away?" Xander asked nervously. Once the weapon was sheathed, he relaxed some. "Why don't we go back to my apartment and clean up a little? We can always hit the Bronze after."

"Fine." The irritation was still near the surface, if the Slayer's tone was any indication.

~**~

I'm really not sure when she went from irritated to turned-on. I know when I did. I know everyone thinks I live in a constant state of sexual arousal, but it's really not true. Still, I do have to say, on the way back to my place I was seriously watching every sway of Buffy's hips.

It was hypnotic. I couldn't think of anything but her – her smile, her voice, her body. Especially her body. I had it bad, and I hadn't been this taken with her since high school. Honestly, I'd thought I was over Buffy Summers.

We got to the apartment, and our eyes met. I knew then and there she was mine for the night – don't ask me how. She telegraphed wanting me just as much as I wanted her.

You know, in spite of how horribly this all turned out, I still rate that night as the premiere sexual experience of my life. Considering it may have been my last, ever, that's somewhat comforting. Buffy was hot – and so was I. 

We were both panting by the time I closed and locked the door. "What about Anya?" Buffy breathed. We hadn't even talked about what we were going to do – we both knew. We hadn't even touched yet.

"She won't come here if I don't meet her at the Bronze," I told her assuredly. "She'll think I'm too tired from tonight." I was somewhat distracted by the sight of Buffy unbuttoning her blouse while I spoke.

She finished, stripping the garment off with gusto. "You will be," she promised me.

Whatever that mojo was that affected my common sense, it didn't affect the memory in the slightest. I will never forget that night, nor will I ever try. I may feel bad about it, but at the time, it was anything but bad. I though Anya was insatiable, but Slayer strength is applicable in more that just fighting situations. I did appreciate the fact that my ex-demon had built my stamina up.

But I really wish I could forget how both of us felt the next morning. That was when I started to see the gates of Hell as a realistic and ongoing part of my life.

~**~

*A good night's sleep,* Buffy thought, awaking. *How rare is that?* Although she had to admit, some of her dreams had been, uh, intense.

A snort and the shifting of someone beside her alerted her to the presence of another in her sleeping territory. Then the figure rolled and threw an arm over her from behind, pulling her closer.

*Oh, shit. Those weren't dreams, maybe.* Which meant she was sleeping with… "Xander?"

Snort. "Huh? Wha?" He sat bolt upright and looked at the girl clutching desperately at the sheets, trying to cover her naked body. "BUFFY?" Xander looked down at himself, and across at her. His memories flooded in, and he realized at once that, whatever it was he had felt for the Slayer in the past, she'd never *shared* the feeling. And he now had someone special in his own life, who he would never want to betray in such a way. His stomach wrenched within him. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry."

She waved her hand, not able to speak just yet. When finally recovered, she protested. "You weren't the only one responsible, Xander, I swear. I remember attacking you, actually."

"No, no,' he babbled, "I, I, uhhh." Not wanting to make things worse, he gave up the attempt at explaining the inexplicable quickly. "What do we do now?" he finally queried.

The slayer was already dressing, making a face at her shirt, stiff with dried demon blood. "We forget this ever happened." Blouse buttoned, she turned and glared at him. "No – it never happened. We don't even have to forget, it just didn't happen."

Pulling on her jeans, she felt a bit of lust rising in her again, but fought it down. "I'll," she caught her breath as she watched Xander pull on his boxers, but pushed herself to maintain control, "I'll see you at the Magic Box, after I shower and change." She realized how low and husky her voice was, and the rational part of her almost slapped her own face for trying to allure Xander with references to her own personal hygiene. Without another word, she turned and ran out the door, and towards her home.

~**~

"Is this the demon?" Giles asked her, displaying a picture from one of the many books he'd been through. "Willow is trying to put together a cross-referencing data base for me," the Watcher offered, apologetically, "but right now, I can only work from my memory of the different demon characteristics. This is one of the tall ones."

"That's him," the Slayer confirmed. After her shower, she felt much more in control of her emotions and responses, and had immediately contacted Giles about the previous evening's encounter – with the demon, not Xander.

"Or her," Giles surmised. "Did you kill it?"

"Completely," Buffy assured him. "What is it?"

"An Aphrodeisia demon – mostly harmless, although highly sought after for its blood. As the name implies, the blood is a powerful aphrodisiac – said to turn even the bitterest of enemies into lovers with just a drop. It also has causes heightened fertility. They're fairly rare, as demons go." The older man looked up, worried. "You didn't come in contact with the blood, did you?"

The young woman didn't answer, only shook her head automatically, not sure why she was disappointed that the awesome performance she'd been privileged to enjoy the previous night had only been due to supernatural interference. Deep inside, she supposed, she'd like to think that she'd been the one to bring out that sexual animal in Xander Harris.

~**~

Buffy caught me before I went into the shop, explaining that we'd been showered in something that turned us both on like light switches. I can't say I was relieved. I felt bad enough about what had happened, but it would have been nice to know we'd had sex because Buffy wanted to. No such luck. I was, as I'd always been to her, perfectly resistible as long as there were no magic forces in action. My ego followed my self-respect down the tubes. 

"Whatever you do, don't say anything to Anya," I begged her.

She snorted. "As if." I could see my retreating ego wince and shrink yet again. "We can't say anything to *anyone*," she went on, and I was amazed at how many pieces an ego already that small could be ripped into. "It was a major, big stupid mistake. Gotta get to class. See ya." Hoisting her backpack onto her shoulder, she walked away, leaving my pride in big bloody chunks alongside the bits of my ego all over the sidewalk.

"Thanks," I called feebly after her. I'm not sure what I was grateful for – maybe that she didn't come back and grind the shattered bits of me into the street with her heels.

It was a few weeks before we could even look at each other, and I had a feeling I wasn't the only one that was suffering the after-effects of what we'd done. That didn't make me feel any better, though. I never have liked seeing Buffy unhappy, and this was worse, knowing I'd been a factor in her misery no matter how unwittingly. She had circles under her eyes, and was obviously dragging. I hadn't been sleeping all that well myself.

My sex life with Anya was pretty much ancient history, too. I just couldn't seem to bring myself tell her what happened between Buffy and me, and as long as I kept it a secret, I felt I had no right to sleep with her. I knew what she thought about unfaithfulness, after all. It had been her job to zap guys like me into trolls or something for hundreds of years before we met. I'm sure, "But honey, I was under the effects of demon blood, I couldn't help myself," wasn't an excuse she'd heard a lot, but it was still, in my mind, an excuse.

Because the other reason I was miserable about what had occurred was the slow but growing realization that I was still in love with Buffy Summers. I'd convinced myself I was over her. Maybe I was, before that night. But whether love had been only sleeping, or deader than the Slayer's first boyfriend, it was alive and well inside me now, and I knew without a doubt I had done the one thing to prevent it ever being returned when I'd given in to the spell of the Aphrodesia demon's blood. 

So things were already pretty bleak by the time she walked into the Magic Box that day and blew apart what remained of my life with two words.

~**~

"I'm pregnant."

The group in the store fell deathly silent. Anya's jaw was almost resting on the keys of the cash register. Giles was clutching his chest. Xander appeared so pale, he might have been a vampire's victim. Finally Willow spoke.

"Buffy? Did you just say…"

"I'm pregnant," the Slayer repeated angrily, her eyes traveling around the room, daring anyone there to deny it. 

"B-b-but," Tara began softly, "You aren't seeing anyone. You h-h-haven't even…"

"What she's trying to say, Buff, is that you've pretty much been a man-free zone since Riley left," Willow finished, earning a grateful look from her tongue-tied lover. "Unless you're reenacting the Immaculate Conception."

"Nothing 'immaculate' about it," she fumed, her gaze now boring into the young man.

"Hey," he defended himself, "You're the one that told *me* it was because of that blood we were soaked in. It's not *my* fault!"

"Xander?" the redheaded witch squeaked. "He's the … oh, my Goddess."

"The Aphrodesia demon," Giles said, remembering. "You touched the blood."

"We were pretty much bathing in it, G-man," the Slayerette moaned. "We went back to my place to get cleaned up, that was all. But we…" he trailed off, realizing there was little need to share further details with his audience.

"You and Buffy made love," the Watcher finished for him.

Xander fought back a grin in spite of himself. "Several times," he said, proudly. All the joy left his face, however, when Anya cried out and ran to the bathroom, tears falling. "Oh, shit." He began to rise, but Tara put a hand on his shoulder.

"Give her a few minutes, Xan. I'll go back and check on her for you." The blonde witch rose and went to the back room.

"It didn't occur to you to use birth control?" Willow asked accusingly.

"Uh, I wasn't exactly thinking with the part of my body designed for that purpose," Xander replied in irritation. "You know – soaked in irresistible aphrodisiac? Naked girl in my bedroom?"

"While I'm sure this blip in my all but non-existent sex life radar is fascinating all of you, it doesn't change the fact that I'm having a baby here. What am I supposed to do?" Buffy's anger had faded, and she was well on her way to panic. "How'm I supposed to slay vamps when I won't be able to see my own toes?"

"There are things that can be done, you know," the older man offered gently. "Certain doctors…"

"Or spells," Willow chimed in, hopefully. "I know a couple of witches who've used them, and read about bunches more."

The Slayer's anger flared once more. "NO! It's not this baby's fault how it came to be. It shouldn't have to suffer for my," she glared again at Xander, "OUR mistakes. It's a part of me, and I want it." She sank down into a chair and put her head down on her arms.

Xander stood and walked over behind her. "I do too," he said softly, touching her shoulder in support. "I'll do everything I can to help." Raising her head she fixed him with a grateful, albeit watery, smile. The young man dropped to his knees beside the chair. "If you want to get married, I'll do it. If you want me to go away and never show my face again, I guess I could do that, too. You'll have money, as much as I can give you. If you want anything else, just say the word."

Buffy shook her head. "I don't want… I want – oh, God, I don't know what I want right now. I want to wake up and all of this to have been a bad dream." She stood up, a little unsteadily. Xander put his arm around her to help, but she pulled uncomfortably away. "I need to go tell my mom before I do anything else."

Sadly, Xander Harris watched his life walk out the door – his heart, his dreams, and now the mother of his child. And he knew everything had changed, forever.

Anya's teary voice behind him jerked him from his thoughts. "We need to talk."

~**~

I really didn't expect Anya to stay with me. She swore she understood, that there was nothing I could have done differently, but she just couldn't deal with it. It's not like she didn't have her own apartment. She didn't move out, or anything, although she did reclaim a few things she'd been keeping at my place.

I went over to Buffy's that night, to face the music. I was really surprised at how understanding Mrs. Summ – Joyce - was about it all. She told me I should call her that. I guess Buffy had pretty much explained the whole demon blood thing to her already, but I went over it again, just to make myself feel better. She said Buffy was already asleep, and that pregnant women needed a lot of rest. She patted my hand, and told me she was certain I'd be a good dad. I wish I were so sure. I know she had to be disappointed, but she hid it well.

As I was leaving, I saw Dawn in the hall, watching me, wide-eyed. I'd never seen her look so young, nor felt so old, myself.

So now, here I am, back where it all started – on patrol. We've resurrected the kind of deal we had back when Buffy ran away after killing Angel. But now, there's no Cordelia and no Oz. But there is Tara, and surprisingly enough, Anya is helping. Even Spike pitches in on occasion.

Buffy did her part as long as she could, but even early on, between the morning sickness (which apparently lasts all day) and fatigue, we knew other arrangements would have to be made. So Willow and I took charge in the field, and Giles was administration, setting up schedules and the like. I was surprised anyone was willing to listen to me.

After the shock wore off, the assumption seemed to be that poor Buffy had been taken advantage of. After all, I was Xander, of the ever-present sex drive. Even though the blood soaked me every bit as much as it had her, I was the one who would have wanted it to happen, anyway.

No one said it out loud, but it was in all of their eyes. They didn't look directly at me much anymore. Even Willow, my lifelong friend, had tried me and found me guilty. I had ruined Buffy's life, single-handedly. And I can't say I really disagreed with them. I *had* wanted it to happen – ever since the first day I saw her.

But it wouldn't have happened, ever. Not if I'd been in control of my own body at the time. That's the part they all leave out. Sure, I wanted it – wanted her. I still do. I think she's just as sexy now, waddling around in big shirts and leggings with my child in her belly, as she was in tight skirts and sweaters. But I'd have never in a million years done anything she was unwilling to do. I'd learned to worship her from afar, and I was damn good at it. I would never have ruined what little we *did* have for one night of something I knew could never be permanent.

~**~

Buffy shifted for what had to be the fifteenth time, trying to find a comfortable position on the couch. Her mom looked over at her sympathetically. "I had the same problem when I was about that far along with you, honey," she consoled her daughter. "This whole extra part of me that I had nowhere to park properly." 

"Yeah," the Slayer sighed. "And it keeps sitting on my bladder. I drink more than a tablespoon, and I have to pee. I wonder if I'll ever see an entire TV program again. I'll be right back."

Dawn glared at her sister's back. "She never does anything wrong, does she? She goes and sleeps with the hottest guy ever, gets knocked up, and everybody's just *fine* with it. If I did something like that, I'd be sent to a convent or something."

Joyce's eyes were wide. "Dawn! For one thing, your sister's a lot older than you – ostensibly, an adult. For another, neither she nor Xander had any control over what happened. They both regret it deeply."

"Yeah – that's the other thing. She *regrets* having been with Xander. How do you think that probably makes him feel? I've seen him moping around. He won't even talk to me anymore, so I guess he's afraid he might have to see Buffy if he came over. She gets to be lazy, and lay around, while he's out doing her job and getting ignored by her."

"I'm sure they've talked about it. We aren't party to everything they do – that's fairly obvious," Joyce said with a weak smile. "I have been a bit surprised they don't seem to be making any plans together, though. Even if they aren't going to raise the baby together, he gave me every indication when we first talked about it that he'd take an active part."

Buffy stood in the hall listening, tears in her eyes. She'd been tired and not feeling so great, and she hadn't even realized she'd pushed Xander away. Willow and Tara had come around, often, and she'd made it by the Magic Box to see Giles a couple of times a week. She was still keeping up with classes, but outside of that, she didn't get out much. Anya had even come over, and they'd talked, some. Not that talking with Anya was ever easy, but Buffy came away with the impression that the ex-demon understood, a little.

But no Xander. She just realized she had a big Xander-shaped hole in her life, and even if he only wanted to be her friend, she needed him there to fill it. Rewind. "Even if he *only* wanted to be her friend?" What else had he ever been? Except – she rubbed her distended belly thoughtfully. She replayed Dawn's comments in her mind. "She *regrets* having been with Xander." Did she, really? Certainly, circumstances hadn't been ideal. But that wasn't his fault, either. There was one more thing she was uncertain about, but she needed to talk to Giles about it. Grabbing her coat, she left without even telling her mother she was going. If things went as she thought they might, she'd call later.

~**~

Oddly enough, the only one that seems to have any sympathy at all for me is Spike. He doesn't say much about it, but I have a feeling her understands what I'm going through. That's why, when given the choice, I choose to patrol with him.

"So, ow's the Slayer doin', mate?" We're hanging out at the Methodist Church yard, since Giles had suspicions about a body that was interred here earlier today.

"Uhhm, round. Tired. Grumpy." I smiled a little, realizing he was the only one I could make the next statement to. "Beautiful."

He raised a brow. "You've got it bad, don't ya?" Since Buffy still needed enormous amounts of sleep, Spike had seen very little of her lately, and of our interactions, or lack thereof. "Why don't you go and tell her, what with her carryin' your pup and all?"

"She hates me."

"Naw, she hates *me* - you she's just pissed at. She'll get over it." Spike had admitted to me how he'd had a major crush on Buffy, but made me swear not to tell. Apparently, his bleach soaked brain finally caught on to the fact that if she and Deadboy hadn't worked out even with the passion of the centuries on their side, he stood little chance, either, and he had given it up. But I think that's why he's the only one in my corner. He probably realizes that my chances with her are about on a par with his, and he's cheering for the underdog here.

"She has this physical reminder of what she's mad about, remember? I don't think she's going to just forget and make nice now. And once she goes into labor, from what I've heard, she'll really want to kill me." I'd been doing a lot of reading about childbirth and all, just in case I got any opportunity to have more to do with this baby besides conceiving it.

The dead guy started to claw his way out of the ground, and I readied my stake. "I could go away, never show my face again, and in sixteen years, when the kid gets his first car, she'll hate me still because she's sitting up, worrying when he's late coming home." I staked the newly hatched vampire without really paying much attention. "When the kid goes off to college, on the money I send, probably, she'll hate me. When he or she gets married, she'll hate me, and probably not invite me to the wedding, either." I pocketed the stake and brushed the dust off my sleeves. "She'll have a constant walking, talking reminder of what a prick Xander Harris was, and she'll *always* hate me for it."

"You know," Spike offered, "I used to enjoy giving you hell, but I can't bring myself to do it any more. You're so much better at it than I am." He shrugged and headed for his crypt. "See you Friday," he threw back over his shoulder. I headed for Giles' to report in, after which I'd return home for another lonely and nearly sleepless night.  
  


~**~

Xander opened the door to his apartment wearily. Giles had seemed oddly distracted tonight, and between trying to talk to him and his own emotional overload, Xander had reached his limit. He knew he couldn't leave town until the baby was born, because he felt he had to shoulder the majority of the duty, filling in for Buffy. After all, he was responsible for her not being able to fulfill her own duties. But once she was back on the prowl, he was out of Sunnydale. So he had about four months (give or take a little) to figure out what he would do with himself.

"Hi," came the hesitant greeting from the couch. He'd been so tired he hadn't even noticed the light was on, although he'd left the place dark. "How was patrol tonight?"

"I got the one Giles was worried about. No prob. Buffy, why the hell are you here?"

"You know we haven't really talked for almost five months now? That's a long time to be quiet. I didn't even handle the whole 'silent for one day' deal very well – this has been torture." She patted the cushion next to her, and Xander sat, perched on the edge. "I got your landlady to let me in. Told her I needed to spend some time with the father of my child. It was a very effective line. Too bad I can't use it more." A moment's silence. "Okay, it was a lame joke. Could you stop looking at me like I just rose from the dead?"

"I've never been surprised by anyone rising from the dead, you should know that." Xander rubbed his eyes.

"I was over at Giles' earlier. I'd asked him to do a little research for me, about the whole Aphrodesia demon and Slayer healing, that kind of thing." Buffy seemed to be searching for words, piecing thoughts together without rhyme nor reason. "I wondered if it was just pregnancy hormones making me feel things for you. I've missed you so much. But I couldn't get past the fact that I felt guilty about sleeping with you when we didn't have that kind of relationship. I ruined you and Anya. You've been pulling away from everybody."

Xander shook his head. This little speech was not flowing easily from one place to another, and he was having trouble following it. He seized on the last statement. "No one wants me around. This," he waved his arm at her bulging belly, "is all my fault."

"See? That's exactly what I've been trying to say. It *isn't*! Giles checked the Watcher Diaries, and any time a Slayer has been affected by this particular demon's blood, which has happened twice before, the whole Slayer powers thing has weakened its effects. You couldn't have resisted me that night, but I could have you. If I'd wanted to." Her voice had faded to a whisper. "I wanted you. Me – not any blood-caused irrationality, me. Wanted you."

He couldn't deal with it. He needed to make a joke, quickly. "You shouldn't be drinking beer while you're pregnant, Buff." At her glare, he backed off. "Me wanted you, too, you know," he said, meekly.

She sighed, her emotions so close to the surface during this time in her life. "I know. I always knew, I think. But I couldn't admit I felt the same. I'm not sure when I actually realized that I did. Besides, you had Anya. I screwed that all up."

"It doesn…" He stopped himself. It *did* matter, but it was too late for that. "It's okay, Buffy. She and I are becoming friends again, sort of."

"Can you forgive me?" the Slayer asked, her heart hanging in the balance. "I'd like to start over. Of course, we do have a rather large obstacle to beginning a relationship where most people do." She laughed uncomfortably, rubbing her belly. "Oh!" she cried out.

Xander jumped to his feet. "What's wrong? Buffy, are you okay? Is the baby?"

Her eyes were wide with wonder. "It moved! It kicked me! Feel!" She grabbed Xander's hand, and he knelt down beside her, placing the flat of his palm on her distended stomach. Nothing happened for a few minutes, and he almost pulled away.

Then – "Oh! Wow! He's a strong little guy." Xander breathed in wonder. "But I guess, knowing his mom, he'd have to be, huh?" He grinned, overcome by the first contact with his own child.

"Hey, his Daddy's no wimp, either," she laughed happily, covering his hand with her smaller one. "And what makes you so sure he's a he, anyway?"

Xander reached up and smoothed his thumb over her cheek, wiping away the tear he figured she was unaware of. "Because the world's not ready for another girl as beautiful as his mom, that's why." The tears began to fall in earnest, now. "Buffy, I still mean what I said before. I'll marry you if you want. Just let me be a part of this baby's life, please?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready to get married just yet, but I won't close the door on it, either. I could love you very much, Xander, with a little time and practice. Let's start there, and build, why don't we?"

Xander nodded. Then, taking her hand, the young man stood up and led her to the bedroom. There they spent the night, fully dressed and warm in each other's arms, dreaming of what their futures might hold. The Hellmouth had lost another battle, and the gates of Hell retreated once more.

~**~

I awaken to the warmth of Buffy's body beside mine. I have no morning fuzziness this time, no doubts as to who lies beside me. Reality has finally broken through, leaving both my foolish dreams and my shadowed fears in its dust. It seems very possible that I haven't lived until now, and I can finally stop simply existing and begin something that actually resembles living.

I study her as she sleeps on. The knit leggings and big tee-shirt that have become her maternity uniform look comfortable enough as pajamas, too, but my jeans are chafing, and I want desperately to get up and change. But if I move, I might wake her, and to ruin this scene right now would be beyond sinful. Her blonde hair half-covers her face, and she's wearing a little frown, like she's thinking hard. One hand is tucked under the pillow, the other hugging it to her chest. She's kicked off the covers, laying not quite all the way on her side with her back to me. I admit I've watched her sleeping before, but never so close to me – never in my own bed. I could get used to it.

I can't, however, get used to the feeling of the inseam of my jeans. I'm pretty sure that once I take them off, it'll be months before the crease stops being imprinted on my legs. As much as I hate to, I have to get up. In spite of moving as slowly as I can and still be in motion, the springs squeak when I stand. She shifts slightly, but her eyes are still closed. Whew.

I'm bent over getting clean socks out of the bottom drawer when she speaks.

"You really do have a nice butt. Willow was right."

I stand quickly, hitting my head on the edge of the dresser in my haste. Regrouping, I turn and grin at her. "You're telling me you never looked before?" I try to rub my head without being too obvious.

"Never with this good a view. Is your head okay?"

I nod, still rubbing it a little. "I was gonna shower. You want to go first?" We're still a little awkward, but I guess that shouldn't surprise me.

"Naw. I guess I need to go home for that – that's where the clean clothes and stuff are. You go ahead." I'm half afraid to go into the bathroom, for fear she'll have vanished when I come out. But she hasn't – she's sitting at the table in the kitchen, and I smell coffee and toast. I grab a buttered slice, even as she makes a show of batting my hand away.

"Breakfast of champions," I mumble around the mouthful.

"Who says I made it for you?" she demands. "I'm eating for two, you know. You usually eat for an army. I didn't make that much toast." Her face grows serious. "I guess I need to learn to cook. Mothers need to cook, don't they?" She pours me a cup of coffee and hands it over, then sits back down. I'm torn between wondering at this comfortable domesticity – like we've been doing this together forever – and the need to reassure her.

"Mine didn't," I answered with a shrug. "Can babies live on Chinese takeout?"

Instead of a smart answer, she bursts into tears. Oh, God – what'd I do? "I'm scared," she whimpers, sinking into the chair. "I don't know how to take care of a baby, and I can't expect my mom to do everything. I'm afraid somebody who wants to hurt me will attack our baby. I'm afraid somebody out there will grade me as a mom, and I'm gonna fail. I can't do this!" Her voice has risen to a wail, and I move beside her, kneeling and taking her hand in mine. 

"You're the Slayer, Buffy. You've died and come back. You've saved the world – you've even been to Hell. A tiny baby isn't going to take you down, I promise. I may not be much, but I'll be Mr. Mom it'll help. I can change poopy diapers while you go slay nasties. I'll protect you and the baby the best I can. We'll have your mom, and Giles and Wills and Tara – cripes, I bet even Spike will help if we trick him into it." She smiles at that through her tears, and I know I'm getting through. "The fact of it is, you've got a lot more going for you than a lot of new moms, and you'll be okay. Just tell me what you want, and I'll do everything I can to make sure you have it." She pulls me to her, and I take my beautiful Slayer in my arms as she slides off the chair and kneels too. 

We just sit there on our knees, holding tightly onto each other for a few silent minutes before she murmurs something into my chest. "Huh?"

"I said, we need to go look at cribs today, 'kay?"

And my heart rises to my throat and threatens to float away.

~**~

He sat at the table, his mind a blur. Buffy had moved in with him, little by little. The crib was in the corner of the bedroom. Her makeup was on the bathroom counter. She slept beside him every night, and sometimes he'd wake up with his arm thrown across her, and desire would course through his body, and he'd forget.

He'd forget that they hadn't even so much as kissed since she came. But that memory would always come rushing back, and he hadn't embarrassed himself so far. They were farther than they'd been before – they talked, and laughed sometimes, and watched movies together, and went to the grocery store. Buffy *was* learning to cook, and now that it wasn't just him every night at the table, he was making more effort in that department as well. He was going to be her childbirth coach. But underlying it all was a kind of uncertainty about their relationship. They lived in limbo – something more than roommates, less than lovers. Roommates who happened to be expecting a baby together. Of all the weirdness he'd experienced on the Hellmouth, this about took the cake.

He talked it over with Spike. "I just don't get it. Why did she move in if there's going to be this invisible wall between us?"

"It's just your utterly resistible charm, whelp." The two were in the cemetery, a place where more heart-to heart talks took place in Sunnydale than in most towns. "From what I'd heard, there's this hormone thing that goes on in pregnancy that makes women raving sex maniacs. She ought to be jumpin' your bones on a regular basis."

"Thanks for making me feel *so much* better about it, Billy boy."

"Seriously. I think a good shagging would do wonders for both of you." The blond vampire flicked his cigarette butt away and stood up from the bench, motioning his friend to walk with him. "You're both taking this way too seriously."

Xander's temper got the best of him. "Excuse me? 'Way too seriously?' We're having a baby here. Like, a life altering experience? We have to start worrying about day care, and measles, and puberty, and college funds, for crying out loud! And you think having sex is the answer? It's what got us into this trouble in the first place!"

The vamp rolled his eyes. "Calm down, man. You could wake the undead. Who are you, anyway, and what did you do with the Xander Harris I used to know? I thought sex was the answer to everything."

Xander stared at him, but the tension was broken. "Except my senior year Calculus finals." He turned and began walking again. "I guess we are a little uptight, the both of us. But I think there's gotta be a better way to ease the situation."

"Dammit. I really don't like this whole grown-up phase you're going through. It's no bloody fun."

The dark-haired man looked at his watch. "Crap, it's after seven. Lamaze class is at seven-thirty, and I need to pick up Buffy. Gotta run!"

Spike shook his head. "The boy is so whipped, and he doesn't even get any of the fun parts."

~**~

We barely avoided being late to Lamaze class, although in my opinion, the more we missed, the better. This was the real punishment for getting a girl pregnant. We all sat around on the floor, the girls puffing and blowing like a bunch of beached whales, while the guys all pretended they were going to be there, loving and supportive when the time actually came, rather than running anxiously around the hospital halls looking for a coffee machine or a quarter to call their mothers, or doing anything to avoid actually having to *hear* the women they love swearing off sex for the rest of their lives.

To be perfectly honest, the whole idea made me uncomfortable. Buffy had started going before we started whatever this- arrangement- what ever you called this thing we were now having, so this was only my second class. And I felt awkward as hell. Most of the couples were husbands and wives, although there was at least one other unmarried couple there. I wasn't sure about Neil and Elaine – they had different last names, but were wearing rings. But no matter – all the others were real *couples*. This, as I said, made me uncomfortable, and when I get uncomfortable, I make jokes to cover.

The insufferably cheery Marilyn announced, "Breathing exercises, girls." The chairs moved, the pillows rustled, and soon all the women were on their backs, while an unnatural volume of air was being inhaled and exhaled noisily.

"Gee," I announced, ostensibly to Buffy but loud enough to be heard over the whale impersonations, "This reminds me of what brought us here to start with."

The guys all laughed, as did more than a few of the other women. But I could tell my own whale, uh, Buffy, wasn't at all amused. In fact, I had a feeling I'd never have to worry about seeing any more products of Alexander Harris's genetic material wandering around after this baby was born. Buffy was never going to let me touch her again, and would probably rip off the parts that did the deed anyway, once we got home. I swallowed, hard.

The rest of class was uneventful – in other words, I spent the next thirty minutes trying to cope with the taste of my own shoe leather in my mouth and imagining my own slow death at the Slayer's hands. I wasn't sure what had made her so mad, it was pretty much a typical Xander tasteless joke, but I had a real good feeling I was going to find out, in glorious Technicolor, soon.

The silence sat between us in the car like a prickly cold uncrossable *thing*. We were almost home when Buffy spoke, and the tone of her voice made me yearn for the relative warmth of the miserable silence once more.

"You are the most incredible asshole I've ever known." She climbed out of the car before it was technically even stopped and stormed into the building. When I got to the apartment, the door was locked and she was nowhere around. I should've never given her a key – she'd gone in already and locked the door behind her, just to irritate me, I assume. I let myself in, wondering if I was going to need a flak jacket.

Buffy was sitting on the sofa, staring at the TV, which was off. Ooooh – kay. I tried not to be too nastily defensive, but I don't think I succeeded. "Funny thing about jokes, " I said without lead-in, "lots of people actually laugh at them. Like most of the people there tonight did."

"Yeah, real funny," she snarled back at me. "Humiliate me in front of a bunch of people we barely know."

I really hate my own temper – it has a photographic memory. "I forgot – it's so much better to humiliate someone in front of all their friends, like you did to me at the Bronze. Except *that* was intentional."

"Making public jokes about our sex life certainly doesn't strike me as accidental."

"Sex life? We *have* one? I must have missed that memo, sorry. If our sex ever had a life, it was over almost before it began." Our voices were rising. Oh, well, it's not like the neighbors never heard Anya and I argue. Or do other things, since we were on that subject.

"It seems to be all you ever think about."

"Well, guess what – thinking about it is all I've done now, for months. You lay next to me every night, all warm and smelling nice and totally unavailable, and have I once touched you?" I backpedaled a moment. "Well, okay, I've touched, but only in my sleep, and I haven't followed through. I bet you're related to the guy who thought up the rack, 'cos you're damn good at torture."

Somewhere along the line, Buffy's expression had done a one-eighty. "You don't want to touch me, do you Xander? I'm such a cow. No one could possibly find a blimp attractive and sexy."

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Whoa, Buff. I think you just gave me whiplash with the last corner you turned. Were you not listening? I *want* to touch you. The word for not touching you was 'torture.'You are gorgeous, and slowly driving me insane with need, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I figure I should consider myself lucky you even stay here with me." How could I stay mad at a pout like that? Her lower lip was quivering.

"I'm fat and ugly. Pregnant women aren't sexy." Her eyes were brimming with tears.

"Anyone who says pregnant women aren't sexy just hasn't seen mine," I told her, moving forward to take her in my arms. I held her, stroking her hair and wondering what had just happened here. I lost all interest in that, however, when she looked up at me with wide eyes, and in a voice that was innocently sensual, said, "Show me."

~**~

Xander was stroking the blonde hair once again, although Buffy seemed to be asleep and her locks were splayed across his bare chest. That had been, well – it proved that his memories of the night their child had been conceived hadn't been exaggerated. He wondered if all pregnant women were so hot. Maybe it was something Mother Nature had thrown in to make up to the father for the mood swings and cravings. It was a bit early for sleeping, although he certainly felt totally relaxed. He was content just to watch her shoulders rise and fall.

The head on his chest shifted slightly, and Xander found himself looking at one hazel eye peering out from a curtain of blonde hair. "Hi," said the hair.

"Hi." He stroked back the hair, and a matching hazel eye emerged, along with a complete set of other facial features. Buffy moved up a bit, leaning on her elbow on the pillow. "Not that I'm complaining, because I am definitely not, but could you tell me how we went from where we were earlier to here? In case I ever need to duplicate that feat."

"You made me mad, and we argued," she answered simply.

"I was tracking up to that point. Then we wound up having sex – not complaining, remember! But I have a feeling something happened in between, and I missed it."

The Slayer smiled softly. "Then you said the sweetest thing."

Xander frowned, replaying what he could remember. Suddenly, his face cleared. "Anyone who thinks pregnant women aren't sexy just hasn't seen mine?"

She nodded. "Sweet. A little Neanderthal, with that whole possession thing thrown in, but sweet."

"It was in no way Neanderthal. There was no clubbing over the head or dragging off by the hair involved."

"Points in your favor," she nodded seriously. Xander lifted his arm, and Buffy shifted to slip under it, resting her head on his shoulder. "Has this whole relationship followed a somewhat non-traditional path?" she asked, rather rhetorically.

"You mean, not everyone begins a relationship with an unplanned pregnancy, then moves in together, then has sex? Actually, now that I think about it, that sounds like exactly backwards from the way most people do it."

A wicked smile crossed Buffy's lips. "You do know what that means, don't you?" When Xander shook his head, confusion on his face, her smile grew. "You still owe me a first date!"

The man's face paled. "You sure we couldn't just do the clubbing and dragging thing? I'd even let you have the club."

~**~

The Bronze would be safe. Nobody goes to the Bronze anymore – that we know, anyway. I mean, the gang goes by every once in a while and checks for vamps, since it's still a hot spot for *them*, but everyone we know pretty much hangs out on campus now. There was no chance anyone would see this little charade Buffy was forcing me into.

I dragged out a nice pair of pants (in my defense, I work construction, and they don't require formal wear, so my wardrobe is a bit thin in that area), and Buffy even made me iron them. My shirt, too. I have to admit, they look a lot better now than they did when I first found them at the bottom of my drawer. I went out and got the car, pulling it from the parking area to the curb. I nearly honked for her when I got there, but fortunately, my self-preservation instinct kicked in. I went and knocked, escorting her to the car and even holding the door for her.

She looked absolutely drool worthy. She wouldn't let me see her while she was getting dressed (which was quite an accomplishment in a shared one-bedroom apartment) and I felt like I was dealing with the bride before the wedding. Oh, man, if Buffy's right and we're doing everything exactly backwards, we should have done *that* first. Now she'll never marry me – it'd throw off the timeline. Anyway, she was wearing this soft blue dress that kind of bloused over her stomach with a straight and very short skirt that made her look all curvy, and not in any way fat at all. Not that she was, anyhow, but in this, she was even less so. She had on white sandals and her hair was up, with little curly tendrils all around her face.

I found us a quiet table in one of the back corners. Of course, it was kind of early for Bronzing, so most of the tables were quiet, which was fine with me. I thought about getting a bottle of wine, but I remembered that pregnant women shouldn't drink, so I tossed that one.

The Bronze doesn't technically have waiters, but they do have these kids who bring out the food after you order at the counter, clean the tables and mop up spilled drinks. I'd called ahead to the manager, who remembered me from our high school days, but was willing to work with me in spite of that fact. When he saw us come in and sit down, he sent some little pimply-faced cretin over to take our order. 

Okay, so hamburgers, pizza, fries and fish sticks aren't gourmet fare – we placed our order, and with a flourish, I pulled a candle out of my back pocket, set it up in the center of the table and lit it.

"So it *was* a candle in your pocket, and you weren't just happy to see me," Buffy quipped.

"You were looking at a different pocket, methinks."

"Well, if it isn't Mum and Pop Romance," a highly unwelcome voice said behind me.

I covered my eyes in pain. "Spike," I moaned, "who told you we were going to be here?"

He looked at me in genuine surprise. "You did, mate."

"Oh." I talked to him about everything, these days, I probably did. "Well, it wasn't an invitation, or anything."

"Yeah," yet another familiar voice joined in. "You have to be special to get one of those." Willow's eyes danced with a joy and love I hadn't noticed directed at me for some time. From her usual place, joined at the hip with my best friend, Tara added, "Or know someone who is." She gave me a shy smile as well.

"I'm terribly sorry I'm late, but I'm afraid I couldn't get out the door without…" Behind the babbling Giles, I saw my two ex-girlfriends, arguing heatedly. Giles followed my gaze, noting Buffy's frown as well. "…Them," he finished lamely.

"Cordelia?" Buffy said sharply. "What are *you* doing here?" She turned to me, looking panicked. "I swear, Xander, I didn't invite her, or Anya, either."

"I was home visiting for the weekend, and went to the Magic Box to see Giles. Your message was on the answering machine, and I thought I'd just tag along. It'd give me a chance to see everyone, all at once." She looked Buffy over critically. "Good, you're carrying all in the front. The weight'll be easier to take off afterwards. Oh, and Angel sends his best. He said to ask if you guys needed a high chair." I saw Buffy's stunned expression – not only was her ex in the know about our situation, he was talking about baby presents?

"How… how?" Buffy gestured at her midsection. "Angel?"

"Harmony may be among the undead, but Aura still calls me a couple times a month. I know *everything* that's worth knowing about what's going on in Sunnydale."

"You checked my *answering machine*?" Giles stammered out, close to anger, but not quite there.

"No – that would be rude for a guest to do. I did that," Anya answered proudly. " I do it every day."

"Anya," Giles explained in strained tones, "The answering machine is in my *personal* office. For me to *personally* check."

"And I always leave you the important messages. I just erase the ones you don't need."

Now Giles had built up to really angry. "I need them *all*, Anya, until *I* decide I don't." He paled slightly. "Just what was it you found unimportant?" he asked her meekly.

"Most of 'em are that pesky guy from the bank – no one would call that often if it were really important." I tuned the rest of the conversation out, although the high-pitched keening from Giles did prove a bit difficult to ignore.

"So," I turned to the woman across from me, "who else should I expect? Did you put an ad in the Classifieds? Did I miss when it was on the front page? 'See Xander Harris, Sunnydale's original loser, on a Real Date'?"

She grabbed my hand in both of hers, massaging my palm with her thumbs. "I know you'd been feeling a little left out lately, and like everyone blamed you for what happened between us. They don't, and they never did. But you can be pretty stubborn sometimes, and I figured this to be the only way I could get you together with everyone so you could see how they really felt. Although," she looked around at the large group of people gathered around our table, "I really only invited Willow and Giles. I kind of expected Tara, too, but not all the rest."

I scooted my chair around so I was sitting right beside her, and whispered in her ear. "We could make it worth their while," I said teasingly, "and you could agree to marry me. We'd have a ready-made engagement party."

She pressed her forehead to mine, and stared into my eyes. "Too late. It throws off the timeline."

I couldn't help myself. I threw back my head and just howled with laughter. Do I know this woman, or what?

~**~

You know, living on the Hellmouth and all, you'd never think I could find heaven. But we've finished dinner, and we've danced with everyone here, between the two of us. I did turn Spike down, but Buffy graciously danced with him instead. I'm looking around at what I have – friends, a new family. She hasn't agreed to marry me yet, but she said it herself – I'm stubborn. 

Buffy comes over, after extracting herself from a conversation with Cordelia. I guess what I'm thinking sorta shows on my face, because she drapes herself over my shoulders from behind and whispers in my ear, "We may not get Happy Ever After, but this is pretty good right now, isn't it?"

I turn and kiss her cheek, whispering back. "I love you."

Her smile is beautiful. "Me too." See – her defenses are already falling.

I can't wait to see what happens next.

~**~

The End


End file.
